


Lesson 2: Midnight Drill

by Hikary



Series: The Pilot's Guide to Parenthood [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Baby Rey, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Inappropriate Use of the Force, M/M, Parenthood, Rey has a cold, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:34:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24405118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hikary/pseuds/Hikary
Summary: Rey has a cold and some furniture takes off.
Relationships: Wedge Antilles/Luke Skywalker
Series: The Pilot's Guide to Parenthood [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1063106
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13





	Lesson 2: Midnight Drill

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gondolin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gondolin/gifts).



> I don’t even remember what happened - I said this to my friend, my friend said it to me, we heard someone on the street talking about baby Rey with a cold...? My life was so full of Wedge when I wrote this that it’s also possible he told me himself lol

It was a joke.

His idiotic and very _unfunny_ husband was obviously joking when he had said _that_ , Wedge was sure of it. At least, he _was_ , up to, well, now.

_« I can take care of a cold, Luke. »_

_« A baby Jedi cold is no joke. I bet this little one could set the base on fire with a sneeze. »_

_« Sounds to me like someone has found a good cover for their Force-disasters. Is that how it’s going to be, now that Ben is old enough to call you out on your bullshit? ‘It wasn’t me, Leia, it was little Rey with a cold’. »_

_« You married an amazing pilot, a gifted Jedi, and a truly creative mind. You should be proud. »_

_« Get out of here, Skywaker. You cannot blame being late on your daughter, too. »_

_« Mh » Luke had grabbed him by the shirt, leaning forward to get close enough for his lips to brush Wedge’s, without really kissing him. « I could blame my husband, though. »_

Wedge had had to kick him out, because, although he always enjoyed a quality pre-mission make-out session with his husband, he was also legitimately terrified of General Organa’s vengeful wrath.

That was four hours ago.

Now, in the middle of the night, alone with at 4-and-a-half-year old Force-sensitive girl and way too proud to call Luke for advice, Wedge was reconsidering his latest life choices. Baby Rey, blissfully asleep in their bed, was a sight for sore eyes: her soft, rounded cheeks and her nose tip were still bright pink from the cold, and yet she was breathing regularly, almost irradiating peace. Wedge would be lying if he’d said the current sleeping arrangements were made for her. He was the one who hadn’t been able to fall asleep on his own for a very long time now. This, Luke knew. There were no real secrets between them, nor was Wedge’s parental pride to be taken seriously. Only the most childish banters were allowed in their marriage. When he stopped and thought about that, Wedge felt lighter than ever: this was his life now, disgustingly happy and full of all sorts of warm and fuzzy feelings.

And, on special days, floating furniture.

Wedge had never been big on interior design, but he was pretty positive the bed was supposed to be on the ground, not a few inches above the floor. He couldn’t help but feeling proud of how stable said bed was, though: his precious little Sunray might have been a menace, but a menace who could lift a double bed with a grown man on top without even blinking and keep it in place for...how long had it been? Several minutes for sure. Wedge pressed his lips to Rey’s forhead and smiled to himself, pleased to notice her temperature was still in check. Luckily, being up in the air came as naturally to him as breathing. There was _no way_ he was going to disturb Rey for such a minor inconvenience.

When Luke finally made it back home, he walked into the bedroom to find his husband and his daughter dead to the world, while their bed – now a good thirty inches from the floor – swayed like a giant baby crib.

But – you see - Luke had just finished a long, _long_ day of boring meetings and planning, fueled by the thought of finally reuniting with his family and celebrate said reunion by sleeping until noon the next day. He shrugged, tossed his clothes (the fancy outfit, the one Leia made him wear to make an impression during difficult meeting and also the one that made his husband very, _very_ weak) to the side, and climbed onto the bed. And if it occurred to him that the effort required to complete such task was slightly more difficult than usual, as if the distance between the ground and the bed has increased, Luke did not show any sign of caring. He had flown across the galaxy and taken down an Empire to be with his family, a few extra inches were so not going to stop him.


End file.
